


A Good Teacher

by ladyfoxxx



Category: Misfits
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Invisibility, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Season/Series 02, Time Travel, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-07
Updated: 2011-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyfoxxx/pseuds/ladyfoxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon loses his virginity to his future self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Season 2.

They're beautiful. Exquisite.

Simon can't tear his eyes from the tangle of their bodies on the bed, his pale skin against her creamy, coffee-coloured flesh. Wide fingers shaping her tits as she writhes on the sheets, riding his face, her back arching up off the mattress as he does... whatever he's doing that makes her moan like that.

Simon wants to know, _needs_ to know, how he does it. He still can't believe it's him - not himself, of course, some future incarnation of him, a leveled-up, kitted-out uber-Simon, with firm muscles where Simon has soft flesh, and the ability to make Alisha buck and come apart under his hands, sweat-slick and panting and beautiful.

Simon watches him hold her down, hands firm on her hips as she shakes and moans, shuddering under his hands and mouth. She comes apart, crying out her release in a high whine. Simon's erection presses hard at the fly of his slacks, painful. His hands wring in front of him. A trickle of sweat slides between his shoulder blades, raising goosebumps, but he doesn't move, he doesn't dare. He won't make a sound. There's no point in being invisible if they can hear you.

This isn't the first time he's watched them, hovering in the room like a spectre, standing close enough to see and hear, but not close enough to be heard. He shouldn't be here, he knows that. It's not even a question of invasion of privacy or his wobbly moral compass. He's overheard enough scraps of conversation to know he could be fucking up the course of events for the future, undoing all the careful work this other version of himself came back to do.

He knows this, but he can't help coming back. He can't help following Alisha when she makes her way here, riding up the lift behind her, silent and invisible. He can't help watching them, cataloguing the motions of his future self, still amazed at his confidence, the mastery he has over Alisha's body when he fucks her.

Simon justifies it to himself by asking: how much can he change if they don't even know he's there?

Alisha laughs, breathy and musical. Her body is somehow liquid now, all relaxed lines and flushed skin, glowing. The other Simon slides up her body to arch over her on his elbows, smiling down at her, and she smiles back, eyes soft in a way they never are when she smiles at Simon.

He presses a furtive hand to his crotch. He's so hard in his pants, his cheeks burning hot. He lets the touch linger only a moment before withdrawing and folding his arms, fingers gripping his elbows hard enough to hurt.

Alisha's brushing the other Simon's hair back from his forehead, her eyes glued warmly to his, her fingers gentle on his skin. She kisses him softly and Simon watches her hand slip down between their bodies, seeking to return the favour. The other Simon breaks the kiss, catches her wrist between his fingers. She frowns up at him.

"No time," he explains, and Simon wants to know how his voice can have so much gravity.

Alisha pouts. "Really?" She must start to move her hand again because he catches her wrist tightly.

"Really."

She sighs. "Fine then. Your loss." The words are careless, but her expression is gentle, a smile tugging at her lips before she catches his in another kiss, pulling away to whisper, "Next time."

"Next time," the other Simon agrees. His voice is rough and Simon can tell it's costing him to stop, can see it in the stiffness of his body, the sheen of sweat on his pale skin. He doesn't think Alisha can tell though; she kisses him once more, soft and brief, before rolling away to perform the reverse striptease of dressing.

Simon watches her pour herself back into her clothes, the strange feminine dance of buttons and buckles until she's dressed again, her jersey dress covering the bruises on her hips the other Simon left there. She presses up on tiptoe to kiss him at the door, her brightly coloured fingernails digging into his pale curve of his shoulder, and Simon shouldn't still be watching, he should be moving. He needs to cross the room and get into the elevator while the door is still open - otherwise he'll have to wait until the other Simon is preoccupied or asleep to get out unnoticed.

His hesitation costs him. Alisha breaks the kiss and slips outside, the door sliding closed behind her so quickly that even if he took the chance to run, he wouldn't make it. His fingertips bite into his elbows and he chews his lip. He'll just have to wait.

The other Simon is still at the closed door, his fingertips on the surface as the elevator hums into motion behind it. His eyes are either shut or staring at the door and Simon can hear his breathing, a little too harsh, a little too loud.

"Have you seen enough?" The other Simon's voice rings out across the room. It's only through practice at staying silent that Simon doesn't gasp audibly. Still, his heartbeat ratchets up, blood racing through his ears.

He watches the older version of himself turn around, eyes flitting around the room to rest where Simon is. Simon can tell by the way his eyes are hovering somewhere over Simon's shoulder that he can't see him. He can't see him, but he knows where he is. He _knows he's there_.

Simon can't bring himself to move or even breathe. The other Simon doesn't say anything else. He just waits. Eventually, he speaks again. "Well?"

Simon swallows hard, making a decision he's sure he'll regret. He closes his eyes and reaches into himself, waiting until he feels the familiar flutter of air around him as his body returns to visibility. When he peels his eyes open again, his future self is looking back at him, dead in the eye this time, one side of his mouth pulled up in what could barely be called a smile.

"How did you know I... was here?" Simon's voice sounds rusty, he hasn't used it in hours.

The pull at the other Simon's mouth becomes more pronounced. "I'm you." He shrugs a little. "I remember this. Last time this happened I was standing where you are."

 _The last time this happened._ The words roll through Simon's head. Fuck, of course.

The other Simon covers the area between them with slow deliberate steps until he's right in front of Simon, perfectly eye level, still half-naked and reeking of sex. Simon can smell it on him, the unfamiliar and familiar scents mixing, and he can't help breathing in deep, savouring it. He can smell Alisha on this Simon, her desire hanging in the air between them, along with the heavier smell of Simon's own arousal, a scent he recognizes from solitary nights of porn and sodden tissues. It makes his cock throb in his pants.

Simon fights the urge to reach for his invisibility and slink away when he feels a blush of heat crawl up his neck. He fumbles for words, voice coming out croaky. "So, what happens next?"

The other Simon regards him calmly. "You want to know, don't you?"

"Of course." The words are out of Simon's mouth before he's finished thinking them: "But, I can't. I mean. You can't tell me, can you? What's going to happen in the future?"

The other Simon smiles gently. "No I can't."

"Then why did you-"

"That's not all you want to know."

For a moment Simon's confused, his brow furrowing. He takes a breath, certain that if he thinks hard enough he'll figure it out. The stink of arousal hits his nostrils again, sending his eyes skittering down the other Simon's neck, chest, stomach, drinking in the sight of his own flesh, but hard, taut and strong. Beautiful. Simon's eyes slide down to where his future self's briefs are stretched taut over his still-hard cock and he has to tear his eyes away. He's suddenly short of breath, nearly panting. Mouth dry, he guides his gaze back up to the other Simon's face. He's looking back levelly, no movement but for the slight shift of his chest as he breathes, steady and slow.

"You're talking about- about -" Simon can't even finish the sentence.

"Sex." The other Simon does it for him, and his cheeks don't darken at the word the way Simon's do - shit, Simon might burn alive if he blushes any harder. "You want to know how to do it. I can teach you. I can show you how to make it good."

"But-" Simon starts to ask the obvious question - _why?_ \- but stops himself before he even gets to it. Isn't it obvious why? This is _him_ , why wouldn't he help himself? If there is anyone in the world whose motives he doesn't have to question, surely it's himself? His mouth works open and closed silently for a moment, until he arrives at the next question: "How?"

The other Simon smiles. It crinkles around his eyes a little, making him look gentle. "I think practical methods are best. We don't have a lot of time and explanation takes a lot longer."

He makes it sound like a logical conclusion to come to, reaching for Simon's hands and tangling their fingers together, sending a blaze of sensation shooting up Simon's arms at the contact. Surprised, he looks down at their entwined fingers, unable to tell at first which are the other Simon's and which are _his_.

"I haven't-" he stammers breathlessly, the confession of his inexperience on the tip of his tongue.

"I know," the other Simon cuts him off, and Simon looks up, catches the ghost of a smile on his face - a smile that he knows from photographs and his own reflection in the mirror. His mouth feels too dry. He licks his lips.

The other Simon's hands are warm. He slides them up Simon's arms, the heat penetrating the stiff material of his shirt. His fingers settle warm and heavy on Simon's neck, feathering up into the short hairs at the back of his head. The movements are soothing, but the touch stirs up a buzzing heat in Simon's skin. He arches into the touch hesitantly, eyelids fluttering.

"I'm going to kiss you now. Just try to relax." The other Simon's words have the opposite effect. Simon's eyes fly open, his body stiffening. He stares at his future self, studying the little crease of concentration between his eyebrows. The other Simon doesn't withdraw, just eases a little closer, until Simon can feel breath feathering over his lips as he _ssssh_ 's at him, whispering, "Breathe through your nose, and relax your jaw."

Simon barely takes a breath to protest when his mouth is covered by the other Simon's lips, firmly but gently kissing him. Simon doesn't have enough brain cells to respond, he just lets himself be kissed, gentle lips moving over his mouth as the fingers in his hair tighten and pull him in closer. He's dizzy and off-balance, hands clenching at his sides, not pulling away but not kissing back either. The other Simon breaks the kiss, putting space between their mouths.

"You're supposed to kiss back. I know you know how to do this."

"Sorry - sorry. I'm sorry," Simon sputters, not sure why he's apologising.

The other Simon smiles. "Let's try again."

This time when he leans in, Simon copies the motion, pressing his lips to meet a warm, eager mouth. When the other Simon's lips move on his, Simon copies the motion, kissing back, and it's weird but also weirdly _good_. A muffled noise escapes his mouth and when the other Simon deepens the kiss, opening his mouth, Simon lets his jaw fall loose, letting him in. The other Simon takes the invitation, licking into his mouth and oh _fuck_ , Simon can taste the sex on him.

He breaks the kiss, panting. "I can taste her. Alisha, I can taste her."

The other Simon palms a hand through Simon's hair, lips quirking in a small smile. "Good, isn't it?"

Simon nods, raising his hands shakily from his sides and resting them on the other Simon's jaw, pulling him in to kiss again. He's suddenly impatient - wanting more, wanting everything. He attacks the other Simon's mouth, artless and enthusiastic, licking inside, seeking more of that taste. He's inching closer and closer until their chests are pressing together, warm through his shirt.

The other Simon slows the kiss, his hands stroking through Simon's hair, soothing. It takes a moment but Simon follows his lead, easing into a more relaxed pace, copying kiss for kiss, nip for nip. His skin's tingling all over - more intense wherever their bodies are touching - and he can't seem to pull enough air into his lungs. The hiss of their combined breaths and the shuffle of feet on the concrete floor is all the sound in the room, and Simon just closes his eyes and kisses back.

The other Simon breaks the kiss, saying, "Good. That's really good." He's breathless and his voice is pitched lower than normal. He reaches for the buttons on Simon's shirt and Simon can't help flinching away.

The other Simon fixes him with a level gaze, fingers poised at the buttons on Simon's shirt. "You can't have sex with your clothes on."

A hot blush crawls up Simon's neck. He ducks his head. "I know. I just. I hate -"

"Being naked. I know. I remember." He reaches for Simon's buttons again as he says it, and this time Simon doesn't move, letting him undo them one by one, slow and precise. "It's okay." The other Simon whispers, "It's just me. Well..." his lips quirk into a smile, "Just you."

Is it narcissistic of Simon to like the way his other self smiles? Fuck, he can't think about that right now. He leans in and kisses himself again, because it's easier to go with the flow when he's kissing, his brain's too busy going _yesohgodwethotmouth_ to freak out about how much less attractive he's going to be naked, compared to his future self. It works long enough for the other Simon to get Simon's shirt off, and his slacks, but when his hands rest on the waistband of Simon's underwear, Simon's knees nearly give out.

"Wait, I'm sorry, just-" Simon sways on his feet and firm hands catch his upper arms, holding him up.

The other Simon _sssh_ 's at Simon again, like he's calming a spooked animal. "It's okay, it's okay. Let's just - over here. C'mon." Gentle hands guide Simon over to the bed and he collapses onto it, thankful that he doesn't have to keep fighting to stay upright. He's still blinking slowly and trying to catch his breath when the warm weight of his other self settles into his lap, straddling him. That's the moment he realizes he's nearly naked, on a _bed_ with another guy who is actually _him_ , and breathing gets trickier.

He gasps, stammering, "What are you... uh. What are we... what comes next?"

The other Simon shifts in his lap and the way his weight settles on him is frightening and delicious. Simon can feel the hardness of another cock pressing against his own and it makes him tremble a little, and arch slightly into the weight.

He doesn't realize his eyes are closed until he hears his own voice - but not from his own mouth - say, "Look at me."

Simon blinks his eyes open and looks into his own face, serious and calm. "I'm going to fuck you."

Simon's whole body shudders at the words. Fuck, he can barely remember how to breathe.

The other Simon slides his hands up Simon's torso, fingers gently trailing over the soft flesh to rest warm on his jaw, one thumb stroking over his lower lip. He leans in, and continues. "You need to know what it feels like, so I'm going to show you. It'll be different with Alisha, of course, but we can go over that next time."

 _Next time._ The words rattle in Simon's head. There's going to be a next time? His whole body is shaking now and he can't get enough air. He wriggles, not sure if the motion is to settle in or try to get out, but all it does is rub him up against the hard body above him, press his cock up against heat and weight and _fuck_ it feels good. He wants it to continue. He wants the next part.

"Okay. Okay." he whispers, nodding, his hands already coming up to run over the hard muscles of his older self's chest and arms. He could look like this, ripped and strong, and he will. But right now he doesn't want to inhabit the body that's arched over him, he wants to press against it, feel it.

Simon takes the initiative, pressing up off the mattress to kiss the other Simon, moving quickly enough that he barely hears the satisfied huff his other self makes before he leans down to kiss back, pressing Simon down as he does. Simon goes with it, liking the pressure of a hard body on top of him, the weight pressing him down into the soft mattress. Every touch on his skin is slow and deliberate, the other Simon stroking firm hands down his arms, up his sides, over his chest. Simon's making little noises in the back of his throat that he's barely aware of, his whole body is thrumming - fizzing and _alive_.

Where the other Simon seems to be able to keep everything slow and liquid hot, Simon can barely keep still. His hips buck up against hardness that's delicious and _weird_ and his hands grasp at firm biceps, skitter over a muscled back. He can't touch enough, can't get enough contact.

"Slow down." A hot whisper in Simon's ear. "We're in no rush. Just feel it." The other Simon chases the words down his neck, kissing and licking into the sensitive hollow at his collarbone. "It feels good, right?"

"Yes." Simon pants the word out, his fingers catching in the other Simon's hair, gripping lightly. "Yes, it's ah... It's very good."

Simon pries his eyes open again and peers down, finding his own eyes staring back up at him. The other Simon has his mouth on Simon's nipple, sucking lightly as he stares up at him, and _fuck_ , how can his face look like that? How can his features fall into an expression of such heat, such want? It's undoing him.

Simon's hips jerk up off the bed completely of their own volition, seeking touch, pressure, heat. His cheeks burn and he turns his face away, hot cheek pressing into the cool sheets, trying to hide how much he's falling apart.

Firm fingers press under his chin, tilting his head back up. "Don't hide. Don't be afraid of it. If it feels good let me see it. Let me see what I'm doing to you."

Simon sucks in a shaky breath and lets his eyes slide open, revealing the hazy figure of his future self watching him, his chin against Simon's chest, one warm hand sliding down Simon's torso, lower and lower. Simon stiffens his shoulders, forcing himself to hold still as firm fingers slip over the waistband of his underwear, resting lightly over the jut of his dick.

He makes a pathetic needy noise and his hips press upward, pushing his cock into the other Simon's hand through damp fabric. Simon's legs fall open, wide, his whole focus narrowing to his own crotch. To the heat under the other Simon's hand.

"See, that's a good sign." The other Simon's voice sounds shredded, deep and rumbling. "Legs open like this, it's like an invitation. It means you're ready for more."

"Y- yes," Simon stammers. "I think, I mean. I think I-" He can't get the words out at first, and loses them completely when the other Simon's fingers slip inside his underwear to grab his dick, skin to skin. "Oh. Oh _fuck_." Simon sputters and gasps for air, hips jerking into the touch. All heat and blood rushes to his dick as the other Simon firms his grip, moving his hand really slow, getting his fingers slick with Simon's precome. "Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ " Simon can't stop muttering curses. It feels amazing. Like wanking off - right down to it being _his_ hand - but more, better, because he's not doing it, he's not setting the pace, and he has no idea what's coming next.

It's all too brief because what does come next is the other Simon sitting up, removing that satisfying weight and releasing his grip on Simon's dick. Simon makes a startled noise of protest, but his future self just shakes his head and grabs the waistband of Simon's underwear, sliding them down his legs and off.

Simon doesn't have time to freak out about being completely naked and exposed, because the other Simon moves in fast, shimmying down the bed until he's lying between Simon's legs and oh fuck, oh jesus fucking _fuck_ , Simon nearly chokes when his cock gets enveloped in a hot, _hot_ , wet mouth.

Simon shouts something unintelligible to the ceiling, his hands grasping blindly at the sheets. Somehow the other Simon manages to take in all of Simon's dick on the very first swallow and god damn, Simon's never felt anything like it. This must be something like what Alisha feels when the other Simon goes down on her, the way he makes her buck and writhe and groan. Simon's groaning too. He tries to say something but all that comes out of his mouth is a garbled mess, and then the other Simon starts to _suck_ and Simon unravels.

So Simon's had a blow job before. Just the one - startled in the locker room by a pretender wearing Alisha's face. Sure, he totally got off on it, but it was rather sudden and over so quickly he doesn't have much more than a sense memory. This, though - this is different. The other Simon works him slow, and thorough, taking Simon down as far as he can before sliding back up again. It's too much and nowhere near enough simultaneously. It takes a moment before Simon realizes the needy moans he can hear are coming from his own mouth. He chokes them off, struggling to breathe, as the other Simon's hand slides up his inner thigh to cup his ass, before gentle fingers slip between his cheeks to caress his hole.

"Oh _fuck_." Simon jerks up off the bed, feeling electric and so on edge. He blinks his eyes open to find his other self watching him, his eyes hot, pupils blown, mouth wet and open. He's got one hand wrapped tight and low around Simon's dick and that's when Simon realizes just how fucking close he got to coming right then. Just from a touch.

"It's okay. I know," his other self says, keeping his grip on Simon's dick firm as he strokes gently at his ass again.

Of course he knows. It's him. Simon's cheeks burn anyway and his eyes fall shut, knowing his other self knows him inside out, knows more about him than Simon does. He knows about the furtive internet research followed by solitary exploration with his own fingers and a tube of KY. He already knows how much Simon likes to be touched there, and how hard he gets off on the fullness of having something inside.

He can't speak - breathing's hard enough - but he nods shakily, trying to relax back onto the bed, to let it continue. He expects the other Simon to go back to what he was doing, the light touches on his hole, maybe some more sucking. It's a surprise when firm hands tuck behind his knees, lifting and spreading his legs wide, opening him up. He realizes what's coming a heartbeat before it does - the wet heat pressing between his ass cheeks, the other Simon's tongue lapping gently against his hole. The noise that comes out of Simon's mouth barely qualifies as human, and if it wasn't for the tight hold the other Simon had on his dick, he'd be coming right now, he's sure of it.

The other Simon doesn't let up, he just gets into it more, lapping and licking between Simon's cheeks and jesus, Simon's coming _apart_. The wet, firm slide of the other Simon's tongue is incredible. Simon's hands tighten into fists and he writhes on the sheets, tossing his head, sucking in air.

 _Rimming_. The word flits into his mind distantly. The term - which he no doubt picked up on one of his internet research jaunts that ended in porn - doesn't come close to describing the heat, the wet, the way the other Simon's tongue wiggles and presses and - oh dear god - slides _in_.

Simon jerks on the sheets, gasping, his dick pulsing in the tight grip of the other Simon's fingers. The words _don't come don't come_ race through his head on repeat. He's so close, so fucking close it's ridiculous. He's so lightheaded he could scream or burst into laughter. It's like his every cell is vibrating, zinging and ready to explode. There's a tongue in his ass. In his _ass_ and it feels amazing.

Simon makes a sound that's halfway between a laugh and a moan, writhing against the hot mouth on his ass. He's so gone he barely notices the other Simon's hand groping across the bed, or the snap of a bottle opening. In fact, he doesn't process the addition of lube to the equation until the other Simon's tongue slips from his ass, only to be replaced by the slippery press of fingers.

Simon chokes out a noise, not even sure if it's a protest or a plea. Then the other Simon is leaning up over him, slick fingers stroking his hole as his face hovers above Simon's. His eyes are half open and his lips look wet and used. The level control Simon's so used to seeing on him is gone and he's breathing hard, sweaty and undone. It a good look on him.

"You like that, right?" The way the other Simon asks, for a moment it's like watching a video of himself - the unsureness that he's so used to seeing on his own face flits across this future version of himself, and somehow instead of unsettling him, it makes Simon feel reassured.

"Yeah. Ah. Huh. I mean- yeah." Simon stumbles over the words. He's lucky he can speak at all, let alone make sense.

"I'm going to-" the other Simon starts to say, but halts, gasping in a breath. Simon belatedly realises that with the way they're lying now, the other Simon's dick is pressing into his hip, hard and hot through his underwear - the last piece of clothing still being worn. Simon pushes up, pressing up against his future self's dick and watching the way it makes his eyes flutter, the way he bites down on his lip. He sucks in a long shaky breath before seeming to find the strength to continue. "I'm going to put my fingers in you. I know you like that."

Simon's face grows hot again but he still nods, his ass already rocking down against the other Simon's hand. The first finger entering him is gentle, sliding in smooth and easy. It's weirdly familiar and yet not. He's done this to himself, but never from this angle. It feels good; good but not enough.

"More." He says the word without thinking, when the other Simon is barely in to the first knuckle. It brings a smile to the other Simon's lips and he nods.

The second finger brings a little stretch with it. Simon starts to pant, his skin prickling with sweat, hair stuck wet to his forehead. It feels good, so much better than doing it himself - even if it is himself doing it, his mind supplies, getting tangled up in the complexity of it for only a moment because - oh.

"Oh," he breathes, because...

Three fingers. Three fingers and he can feel it now, the beginning of that fullness he craves. His dick is pulsing in the tight hold of the other Simon's fingers - his fingers that aren't even moving - and Simon's dangling, hanging on the edge of a precipice.

"Take my shorts down." The other Simon says, in that quiet, commanding voice that Simon can't wait to learn to imitate.

He nearly asks why before he realises that between the vice grip on his dick and the fingers in his ass, the other Simon doesn't have a free hand to do it himself. A streak of hot shame courses through Simon at that, because wow, he's really done _nothing_ here, just laid back and taken it and oh, what a dud fuck he is.

"Stop with the internal recriminations and take my shorts down," the other Simon orders, voice a little shaky this time, and Simon can finally see a crack in his control, see a little of himself inside the bulletproof superhero and it releases something warm in his chest. He gropes for the other Simon's shorts, breath catching as he tugs them down. He's not sure what he's expecting to see, but the sight itself is familiar. His own dick, hard and leaking, just from a different angle than usual. It probably shouldn't make his mouth water the way it does. He stares, open-mouthed, until the other Simon speaks.

"Get the lube." His voice is ragged. He nods toward the bottle lying on the bedspread and Simon gropes for it, getting it open and slicking his fingers shakily. "Rub it on my prick."

The words make something inside Simon twist and melt, and he can tell from the way the other Simon is trembling a little that he's feeling it too. Simon reaches down, air rushing out of his lungs as he wraps his fingers around the other Simon's dick. It's the first time he's ever touched another guy's dick, except it isn't another guy's, it's his, and oh fuck he doesn't have the brain capacity to deal with this now. He shifts his hand, moving slowly up and down the other Simon's cock, trying to do it slow - the way he knows he likes it - and he mostly succeeds, despite the weird angle.

The other Simon shudders, his hips stuttering a little like he has to hold back from fucking into Simon's hand. It's an impressive amount of control, Simon thinks; after all, he's been hard since before Alisha left. The cracks are showing though: the other Simon is shaking now, his skin sweat-slick, his face a mask of intense concentration.

"I'll show you how to do condoms next time." He breathes, the words a little rushed. "You'll need to know for-" He breaks off when Simon's fingers stroke over his cockhead in that good, practiced way and Simon can't help the thrill he gets at the reaction. The other Simon swallows, breathes, continues, "For Alisha, you'll need them. We don't though. Not with just you and-" his sucks in a breath as Simon repeats the motion, lips curling wickedly, "just you and you." A tiny smile quirks his lip and Simon returns it, his own mouth stretching a little wider. He tightens his fingers on the other Simon's cock, rubbing over the head in the way he knows feels amazing, and watches the other Simon stiffen, eyes scrunching shut, gasping in a breath.

When the other Simon opens his eyes again, they're nearly black and he looks dangerous. Simon doesn't get a moment to process the thought that _he_ could look like this, right now, before he's flattened against the mattress, a hot mouth covering his own with a deep, desperate kiss. Simon kisses back eagerly, sucking at his lips and tongue. He doesn't come up for air until the other Simon's fingers twist inside him, making him gasp and groan, and then the fingers are sliding out, leaving him feeling empty.

A whine starts to leak from his mouth, but the other Simon swallows it, kissing him hard and guiding Simon's legs back and wide with firm hands. Despite all the lead-up, it's still a shock to feel the blunt press of the other Simon's cock at his ass. Simon's breath catches in his throat and he blinks his eyes open to find himself staring at his own face, like looking in a mirror, but not; familiar and strange and so intimate. Their breaths mingle between identical lips, and then the other Simon starts to push in, slowly, slowly, to the very hilt. Simon's mouth falls open, spilling out a breathy noise.

There's a little pain, only a little though and Simon breathes deeply, pushing through it until all he can feel is the stretch, the fullness. It's incredible. More than he thinks he can handle, and then the sensation increases because the other Simon starts to move, to slowly drive out and in, and the friction is intense. A noise bubbles from Simon's lips and the other Simon captures it, kissing him as thoroughly a he's fucking him, their bodies crushed together and moving as one.

Simon's already hanging by a thread when the other Simon's hand tightens around his cock, stroking him off with slick fingers. Simon breaks the kiss with a loud groan, shoving his ass back against the other Simon's cock, needing it faster, needing more.

The motion shakes a moan from the other Simon and then he's all over him, kissing him deeply as he fucks him, really fucks him, hips thrusting forward, fast but controlled, grunting into Simon's mouth. Simon's hands slide all over the other Simon's back, grip his ass, tangle in his hair, reaching and begging. He needs more, more of everything. He moans between their mouths, fucking back, blood racing through him, the grip and stroke on his dick so, so perfect. The other Simon's free hand grasps Simon's hip, pushing up, somehow shifting them only slightly but suddenly - holy _fuck_ \- every time he bottoms out there's an explosion of pleasure right through Simon's body. He's shaking, trembling, grasping tight to his older self and holding on.

The other Simon gets one more perfect stroke on Simon's dick and that's it - Simon shatters, breaks apart, clenching and releasing, shooting hot white between their bodies with a shuddering groan. He goes limp, riding out the orgasm as the other Simon continues to fuck him, hips stuttering forward hard and fast until he succumbs too, grunting out his release into Simon's hair as he shakes and shudders over him. Simon can feel the pulse of release in his ass when he comes.

It takes a long moment before either one of them can move. They lie there, pale limbs in a tangle, echoing each other's panting breaths, heartbeats racing in sync, until the older Simon pushes up off of him, rolling onto his back to stare at the illuminated ceiling.

They don't speak for a long time. Long enough for their breathing to return to something like normal. Long enough to realise that they both have a habit of waiting to be spoken to, rather than speaking.

In the end, Simon breaks it. "Would you call this incest?" It's a question that keeps niggling his mind.

"No, I don't think so," the other Simon tells the ceiling, then rolls onto his side, eyes warm when they meet Simon's. "Probably closer to masturbation."

Simon chews his lip thoughtfully, searching through definitions in his mind. "So does that mean I'm still a virgin, or not?"

The other Simon isn't surprised by the question at all. Of course, he wouldn't be. "Do you feel like a virgin?" he asks, back to sounding mysterious.

Simon shifts slightly on the bed, like virginity loss is something he could detect just by concentrating on how his body feels now. He feels relaxed and fucked out and a little bit sore. Not particularly virginal. "No," he says, decisive. "No, I don't."

"Then you're not," adjoins the other Simon; the gravity is back in his voice again and it makes it easy to believe him.

Simon hums his assent, his mouth tugging into a smile. "That's some pretty extreme masturbation."

He grins up at the ceiling, satisfied, unknowingly mirroring the expression of his future self. The person he's already starting to become.

~end


End file.
